


A Particularly Interesting Point of Data

by azephirin



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: College, F/M, First Time, Frottage, Genderswap, Orientation, Pan-Fandom Frottage Fest, girl!Mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark and Dustin don't go to a party, because they have better things to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Particularly Interesting Point of Data

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this delicious prompt](http://bulletproof-fic.livejournal.com/14990.html?thread=430222#t430222) at the [Pan-Fandom Frottage Fest](http://bulletproof-fic.livejournal.com/14990.html).
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** To the extent that either of these characters are real people, this story depicts them as they are fictitiously portrayed in Aaron Sorkin and David Fincher's ~~RPF 'verse~~ movie _The Social Network_.

"I'm Mark, I use a guy's name and if you call me Marceline I'll kill you, some idiot in Student Affairs hit the wrong button for gender and I ended up your roommate, and if you don't like it, you can suck my nonexistent dick."

She's five feet tall if she's lucky, she's wearing shorts and a hoodie, she's got blond curls that maybe saw a brush once and the sharpest blue eyes Dustin has ever seen, and he's pretty sure he's in love on the spot.

+||+||+

There are these exclusive clubs on campus—sort of like frats, but not—and apparently they throw parties during orientation that everybody wants to go to. Except Mark, who makes a comment under her breath about roofies and coke not being her thing, and turns back to her computer. Dustin sort of wants to go because everybody else is and it's certifiably a cool thing to do, but he also honestly would rather hang out with Mark and have another beer and maybe play a round of Grand Theft Auto. She's the one person he's ever met who's better than he is, and she definitely swears at the screen more.

That's what he winds up doing.

After their second round of GTA (she wipes the floor with him), Dustin says, "You sure you don't want to go to that party? A lot of the girls from downstairs were going."

Mark fixes him with a withering look. "Yes, because I always endeavor to copy the activities of the girls from downstairs."

Dustin holds up his hands in surrender. "Hey, I was just asking! I didn't want to keep you here playing GTA if you really wanted to go to the awesome party."

"If I wanted to go," she says, "I would go."

They have another beer.

+||+||+

After another couple rounds of GTA, they turn on the TV. It's not Shark Week, unfortunately, but there is a shark documentary on the Discovery Channel, so that's pretty awesome. Dustin lolls back on the couch—he's had a couple of beers and isn't drunk, exactly, but he isn't sober either. He flops his head to one side and looks at Mark. "I didn't want to go to that party," he says.

"Why would you?" she retorts. "It was sure to be full of Neanderthals and drunk, gyrating freshman girls."

"I wouldn't have minded that last part," Dustin says a little wistfully, and he sees her roll her eyes.

"I'm sure it's still happening," Mark says. "Nothing's stopping you from going."

He smiles at her. "Nah. I'd rather hang out here with you."

She doesn't exactly smile back, but she does let him have the remote.

+||+||+

An hour or so later, Dustin's sleepy, and Mark's lap is available. He shuffles around and puts his head in it.

She starts, just a little bit, and he's about to apologize and move, but then he feels her relax back into the couch, and after a few moments, very tentatively, one of her hands comes to land on his shoulder. Dustin wraps his arms around her waist and after another pause, her fingers move from the fabric of his T-shirt to the skin of his arm. Her touch is light, even hesitant, though in the short time he has known her, he has seen her display hesitation about absolutely nothing. He wonders whether she's a virgin. He is, although he will confess that only on pain of death, but he knows she went to a boarding school, and he's heard that boarding school kids get up to all kinds of stuff. People in Florida don't go to boarding school unless they're delinquents sent off to military academies, though, so Dustin admits that his knowledge may not be completely accurate.

He looks up at her, and she's looking down at him with a completely inscrutable expression. He smiles at her because he can't help it. "Hi."

She doesn't grace that with a verbal response, but she does reach down and—Dustin breathes in sharply—run a small finger over his lips with a touch that still seems unsure.

He stares up at her, and he wants to pull her down and kiss her, but the angle's all wrong like this. He does his best, though, and she clambers on top of him, and he discovers that, despite her hesitant touch, she kisses as fiercely as she does everything else. He buries his hands in the tangles of her hair, and she grips his face in hers like she wants to hold him in place. Which is an idea he's totally fine with. He's seen it in porn, where the woman ties the guy up or holds him down, and it never seemed like it would be his thing, but if Mark wanted to put handcuffs on him or whatever, Dustin thinks that would be pretty hot.

They're both still dressed, but she's rocking back and forth over him, grinding right on his cock, and he can't help moaning. He can feel how hot she is down there, and there's practically no friction, which means that she's probably wet, and more than anything Dustin wants to touch her there, find out what she'll feel like against his fingers and how she wants him to touch her and how to make her come. He thrusts back up against her, and she whimpers just a little, in a way that he'd never have imagined. Her hips are moving steadily, even sinuously, and he's harder than he's been in his life, and if she keeps doing this, he's going to—

"Oh, fuck, Mark, I'm so close—" He didn't even know he was there until he was, and he gasps out, "Mark, I'm going to—" but instead of scrambling off him, she just looks down at him with that little not-quite-smile and keeps moving, keeps pushing and pulling like she's fucking him through their clothes, and his hands fall to her hips and he's coming, he can't help it, pulsing up against her in uncontrollable bursts.

When he gets his breath back, she's still looking at him like he's a particularly interesting point of data—but her cheeks and her neck are flushed pink, and her breathing is sharp and uneven. Her hips are still moving, just a little, and Dustin wonders whether she knows that.

"You, uh, you didn't..." he starts, but trails off.

She raises an eyebrow. "No," she agrees. "Did you have a suggestion?"

Dustin can feel himself turning red, too, but he tries to take a page from this girl's book: her determination, her electric self-confidence, the way she seems to know exactly what she's doing even when, he's now witnessed, she doesn't. He still can't help stammering, though, when he says the words out loud. "I, um, I never went down on a girl before, but I, um, if you wanted me to?"

She grins.


End file.
